GruffyddA Journal Entry
Tallinn wasn’t somewhere I’d planned for long, it was another of those “£100 flight and hostel” impulses that somehow turn into unforgettable memories. I arrived on March 3rd, 2023, snow still thick on the ground, and the city looked like something straight out of a storybook.
I went solo again, but just like in Kraków, I wasn’t really alone. I’d joined a Facebook group for solo travellers, and a bunch of us had coordinated trips around the same dates. By sheer coincidence, someone I’d met on a previous trip was not only on the same flight — they were staying in the same room. Small world.
First Impressions
From the moment I stepped out of the airport, the cold hit, sharp, clean, Baltic cold. But Tallinn in the snow is beautiful. The Old Town looks like it’s been dusted in icing sugar, every roof glinting white against pastel-coloured buildings and spires. The cobblestones squeak underfoot, and every turn looks like a postcard.
Our hostel was quiet, tucked away near the centre. Perfect base, close enough to walk everywhere, quiet enough to thaw out after long days in the cold.
Exploring the Old Town
I started with a walking tour, the best way to get a feel for Tallinn’s layers of history. It’s one of the best-preserved medieval towns in Europe, and you can feel that everywhere, red rooftops, narrow alleys, old merchant houses that have stood for centuries. We wound through Toompea Hill, past the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, and down to Town Hall Square, where colourful façades and the smell of roasted nuts made it feel warmer than it was.
I took my camera everywhere. Tallinn is one of those cities where every corner feels like it’s waiting to be photographed, pastel walls against snow, tiny cafés glowing with candlelight, and views from Kohtuotsa viewing platform, where you can see the whole Old Town below. The view was breathtaking, the snow still falling softly as the church towers poked through the mist.
The Evenings
The evenings in Tallinn were when the city came alive in a quieter way, cosy bars, live music, and locals who seemed to know everyone. One night we ended up in an Irish pub with a live band playing folk songs, the entire room clapping and stamping their feet along. There’s something about Irish pubs abroad, they always find you.
Another night we found a small club where doubles were €2, dangerous, but great value. The music was a mix of pop, electronic, and local hits we didn’t recognise but danced to anyway. The people were friendly, unpretentious, and always smiling, a nice contrast to the frozen streets outside.
We also discovered a karaoke bar, where locals belted out 80s rock ballads with total confidence. Later that night, we wandered into a bar that had a saxophonist with an LED-lit instrument, playing over house music, one of those small, random touches that make a night out memorable for no reason other than how odd it is.
Snow Days
During the day, we explored Kadriorg Park, a huge stretch of snow-covered trees and frozen ponds. We ended up building snowmen and having a full-on snowball fight like kids, laughing so hard we forgot how cold it was. Tallinn in winter has that effect, it makes you want to slow down and enjoy simple moments.
Cafés became our havens, warm, inviting places where we’d thaw our hands over mugs of hot chocolate or mulled wine. Tallinn does cosy like nowhere else. Between the medieval architecture and the quiet friendliness of the locals, it felt like stepping back in time but with good Wi-Fi.
Final Thoughts
By the time I left, I’d fallen for Tallinn’s quiet charm. It’s small but full of character, every street corner tells a story, every pub feels like a secret. The cold was intense, but the snow made everything beautiful, softening the city’s sharp edges.
The architecture was stunning, colourful buildings lining narrow lanes, church spires piercing the sky, and that perfect mix of history and warmth. It’s a city that feels peaceful but alive, old yet modern, cold outside but full of warmth within.
Leaving Tallinn, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d only seen one version of it. I’d love to go back in summer, to see those same streets in sunlight, the parks in bloom, and cafés spilling out onto the cobbles. But something about that snowy version will always stay with me, frozen in time, just like the city itself
